by Amy Star
Vincent grunted and swayed slightly, pulled off balance by Jane’s shifting weight. Gruffly, he whispered in her ear, “Take the shoes off,” and lowered his foot until it was resting solidly on the floor.
Pinned against the door, Jane had no choice but to submit all of her weight to Vincent’s leg and she curled her toes and kicked each golden shoe off her foot, praising the shopping gods that she’d gone with the kind you can slip on rather than the fancier version with the buckle. Shoes removed, Jane had to go up on tiptoe to keep her balance, but she could feel that Vincent was more secure with his leg down. Rolling her hips forward, she gave a gentle grind to test the stability of the position and was pleased to find that it was a solid and very pleasurable surface to move against.
Vincent must have found the move erotic as well, moving both hands up to Jane’s face he reverted to kissing her as if he was making love only through his mouth. Jane kept up a playful rhythm that was only incrementally increasing her need. But Vincent wanted her wild. He trailed one hand down the bodice of her dress, deftly lifting out her breasts and giving them a quick fondle as he moved south again. He moved his hand under Jane’s thigh and gripped his leg. Jane wondered what he was playing at until she thrust forward again and felt that his thumb was directly in line with her clit. Need escalated to a ten and she was helpless to slow her roll as his thumb continued to brush her in just the right way.
Vincent let out a little laugh as he felt Jane speed up, the wetness within her spreading to his pant leg. Jane panted as her body strode toward climax. Vincent’s head dipped down to Jane’s breasts in an act of contortion that was worthy of any Cirque de Soleil show. With his free hand braced against the door, Vincent licked slowly around her nipple. Around, and around, and around his warm wet tongue went until it reached the center and flicked over the sensitive nipple at its center. Jane lost all control of her grinding at that point and thrust as Vincent’s thumb began to move back and forth against her in time with the sucking on her nipple. With a shout, Jane clawed at Vincent’s back, grasping at the physicality of him as her body lost control in climax.
Vincent pulled back from Jane’s breast, watching hungrily with his smooth caramel eyes until she came back to earth. His thumb gently stroking the entire time, so the relaxation of her orgasm immediately turned into building need again. Jane’s eyes fluttered open as she felt the pleasure mounting fast again. With a nod, Vincent slowly removed his leg and Jane landed on the floor with unsteady feet. His hands moved to his belt buckle, but his eyes stayed on Jane’s swaying figure, ever ready to catch her at any moment. Unzipping his pants and letting them lay enticingly open, Vincent kneeled in front of Jane and ran his hands up her legs until his fingers hooked around the thin lace thong he’d bought for her earlier in the day. Slowly, Vincent pulled the underwear down her legs, allowing the rasp of the lace and the brush of his calloused hands to further tease her sensitive skin.
When he finally reached the floor again, he carefully helped Jane remove one foot from the underwear. The act complete, Vincent moved faster, his own need coming to the forefront. He reached for the hem of the beautiful gold dress and lifted, exposing her butt to the cool air of the hallway. Jane let out a little “Oh,” of surprise at the contrast in feeling before Vincent moved his hands to cover the newly bared skin. Vincent removed his hard length from his pants and lifted Jane to the right height, the head of him pressing warmly against Jane’s wet center. Slowly, he pushed in and out again. He was so large, it took time and Vincent was infinitely patient. He moved in and out, in and out, all the while kissing her neck and chest, grinding until he was fully sheathed by Jane.
They both let out groans of relief when his length was inside of her. She felt stretched in the most delicious way. Vincent took her mouth and kissed her deeply as he started moving again. It was restrained at first and Jane wondered if she was too heavy for him to hold comfortably. But when he was able to remove one hand from behind her and play with her clit while he thrust, all thoughts about anything but pleasure left her mind. The man knew what he was doing. She trusted him to break their fall if they went down. Faster and faster Vincent moved and Jane felt herself pushed toward another orgasm. As she felt her insides tighten around Vincent, she heard him groan and could feel his control snap. Deep, hard, smacking thrusts ensued and quickly tipped Jane over the edge into the abyss of passion once more. With a muted shout, Vincent joined her.
After a few moments, Jane wondered how she was going to get down from her position against the door. She’d thought about it hazily at first, but as the orgasm’s effects wore off, she started to wonder about how heavy she was. Vincent was still breathing heavily, his forehead against the door, nestling her head in his neck. It was a nice place to be, don’t get her wrong, but as big as Vincent was, werebear or not, he was going to get tired and drop her eventually.
Opening her eyes, she realized, perhaps for the first time during the entire act that they were in a hallway; a semi-public hallway. She felt her body instinctively try to collapse in upon itself, hiding as much of her exposed skin behind Vincent. Jane felt her cheeks get hot as she tried to scan for cameras, not that in a place like Mezzanotte they would be obviously exposed.
Jane heard Vincent’s laugh above her head. “There are cameras, if that’s what you’re wondering, but they go to an internal server for Valente and me. I’ll remove the disks after I get you in the suite.”
Jane covered her eyes as Vincent lowered her to the ground. “Vincent, I’ve never met your brother! What is he going to think of me if you have to tell him you need to remove security footage because you had sex in the hallway? That is utterly embarrassing.”
“I won’t tell him why, my sweet,” Vincent said as he used the touchscreen to open the door to the suite. Ushering her inside, he shut the door and moved back down the hall to gather the footage. Jane stood there, breasts exposed, shoeless, with a thong that cost more than her weekly salary hooked around her ankle. For a moment, she felt the sensation of vertigo. All at once, she was both happier and more confused than she’d ever been in her life.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Jane woke up to breakfast in bed. It was the normal fare of delicious pancakes, coffee, and strawberries that had broken her nightly fast for the past month. She looked at the cakes and sighed. It wasn’t the food’s fault. The pancakes really were out of this world delicious, but some days, like today, Jane was in the mood for toast. Or eggs, she loved eggs … even a Pop-Tart would be a welcome sight at the moment. Vincent was wonderful to arrange it all, but it was starting to feel like she was being coddled rather than loved. She needed a little free will in the operation.
Placing the cover back on the meal, Jane got out of bed and went to the closet to pull out something for work before she hopped in the shower. Vincent had been good enough to send one of the lesser weres over to Jane’s side of the suite and move all of her clothing to his side the day before. He had somehow managed to drop that into dinner conversation and through the delightful haze of a twenty dollar cocktail, Jane hadn’t found it as circumspect as she did right now. They’d only been having sex for two days and she was already moved in? True, she hadn’t moved far, literally crossing an adjoining door, but still, it didn’t seem quite right.
Opening the closet doors, Jane blinked. Then she closed the doors, pinched herself, and opened them again. It was all there. Every last piece of clothing she’d tried on yesterday at the tag-less store. Half of the shop had to be currently sitting in her closet. There was no way the store could have opened today. Vincent had cleared them of their entire stock in a size medium. A giddy laugh bubbled up and out of her. Jane had the craziest desire to hug the clothing. Yet, she had an equally strong desire to pack it all up and physically take it back to the store; it was just too much.
Stalking her way toward the living room, the deep grumble of Vincent’s voice became clearer. And it was obvious that he was frustrated with something. His voice was
so forlorn, scrambling to make his point made. Jane paused to let him finish a thought and judging by the deep sigh that came out of him, it was obvious his argument had come to naught. Jane bit her lip and slowly turned back around toward the closet and the shower. Remembering how much Vincent had enjoyed yesterday, how he had loved seeing her in all of the clothing, how he’d loved spoiling her, she felt a little guilty trying to throw it back in his face.
Avoiding the closet by moving through it to the marble bathroom and giant shower beyond, Jane wondered how many people he got to spoil and love in his life. There weren’t many personal photos around the apartment; there was lots of art, a few family photographs of his brother and Xavier. But beyond that, there was nothing. It seemed mean-hearted to throw his generosity back in his face. Maybe Jane could take the time to plan a conversation where she talked about boundaries. Jane needed him to know that while she loved Vincent’s gifts, she didn’t want him to think he needed to buy her love.
Jane showered with brand new bottles of her favorite hair and bath products. She didn’t know what happened to the half empty bottles from her apartment, but they weren’t in the shower. As she applied her make-up (thankfully her own) and picked out a truly lovely polka dot shirt dress with some awesome white pumps, Jane tried her best to simply enjoy the gifts Vincent had given her. It just nagged that everything she’d done or touched this morning had been put there, in advance, and without her input. Jane was trying very hard not to feel like a kept woman because she accepted it or a gold digger because she liked it.
Out in the living room, Vincent poured himself his third and final cup of coffee for the morning. He took the warm mug and walked over to the wall of windows that looked over the bright morning on the strip. Vincent had watched the strip grow from a boom town into the lavish excess it now was. Even with all the lights and money, he still preferred the view of the desert and mountains beyond. If you stood still long enough and focused on the stillness beyond the thriving metropolis, you could lose yourself in the beauty of Nevada.
Vincent desperately needed to focus on that. The animal in him loved the land. It made him nostalgic for the times when there was enough wild to go around and nobody wanted to make money. The wealth of the Mezzanotte clan sometimes felt like an albatross around Vincent’s neck. He didn’t want their downfall to come because they felt too secure in their position at the top of the West Coast clans.
His phone let out a ping and Vincent broke from his thoughts and memories to look down at his email. Swiping, he glanced at his screen and saw a red bubble with the number “50” emblazoned within. Vincent barely had time to let out another sigh before the number “52” replaced the original and as he put the phone to sleep a ping signaled yet more incoming messages. That was another thing Vincent preferred about the old days, no immediate contact.
Fifty years ago, there were phones, but most business was done via personal connections and you didn’t have to be on call 24/7. The barrage of requests and information was overwhelming and Vincent knew he was only the first son right now. When he became leader of the clan, he’d have to take on three more assistants just to keep up with the influx.
Vincent’s nose picked up the gardenia scent of Jane. She’d almost walked out when he was in the middle of trying to convince his father that the recent rash of crimes against their clan was a real threat. The baser parts of him had wanted to hang up on his father and drag her back to bed. Make that the third worry weighing on Vincent’s mind. His mate. It was honestly one of the worst times to find his mate. He was just getting the hang of everything. Vincent had hoped to find her in fifty years or so, when he’d fully taken control of the clan and was comfortable in his leadership. But once you found a mate it appeared as though you were stuck with them.
In the beginning, Vincent had thought he could walk away from Jane. But at every turn, he kept bringing her closer and closer until she was literally under his thumb...or should he say on his thumb...thinking about last night, Vincent was instantly itching to see Jane. Before he realized it, he’d started tracking Jane through the suite.
Jane exited the bedroom and ran into the solid wall that was Vincent. His hands banded around her upper arms to cushion the worst of the blow; as it was, her nose was a little tender from the impact. All Jane wanted to do at that moment was leave for a minute, eschew the daily coffee and pancakes routine and do something wild...like grab a caramel mocha latte from Starbucks with a big chocolate croissant or maybe she’d head to Dunkin’ and get an egg white flatbread and iced blueberry coffee. No matter what the plan though, she wanted to do it alone. Grunting up at Vincent, she pasted on a fake smile and said, “Morning Vincent, I was just on my way out.”
Jane moved around his stunned body and grabbed her purse from the hook, where God knows what underling had put it there. She glanced inside and double-checked that it still contained her wallet, lipstick, and latest paperback novel before throwing her phone in and slinging the black hobo over her shoulder. Vincent had sprung into action at this point, obviously coming to physically delay her exit strategy. Jane knew if he got close enough to kiss her, she was done for. That was the one thing she couldn’t refuse him; her body was a traitor and Jane knew it.
“Hold up Jane, where are you headed? You haven’t even had coffee yet...and did you eat breakfast? What’s the rush? What’s the matter?” Vincent asked, his arms outstretched and his eyes pleading. He looked like a little kid who didn’t know he’d done something wrong.
Jane didn’t want to deal with it now. She could feel herself melting simply from being in his presence. It was weird the connection she had with him. It was as if she could feel what he was feeling. The desperation, desire, and the general need was breaking down her pissy mood. But damn it, Jane wanted a freakin' cup of caffeine that she’d chosen and bought herself.
Straightening her shoulders, Jane simply said, “Nothing's wrong, I just wanted to grab my own coffee this morning. I’ll see you at the shop around eleven?” Jane didn’t wait for his agreement. She held on to her purse strap and fled before she gave in.
Vincent stood in the apartment and watched her go. Simply watching Jane walk out the door had tugged a little uncomfortably at his heart. Vincent’s eyes narrowed at the back of the door. What he needed to do was to go after her. He needed to find out what was wrong. Vincent’s mind started to spin with the possibilities. Had he said or done something wrong? It didn’t seem so, he’d spoken only a few words with her since she had woken up and sprinted out of the apartment. Did Jane not like the new clothing? Vincent noted that she had been wearing a dress and shoes from the stuff he’d bought, but Jane hadn’t thanked him for the gift. It wasn’t that he was upset at her social faux pas, but it wasn’t like Jane to let something like an entire closet of clothing slide without comment.
Vincent moved into his own closet to dress for the day. He chose a pair of dark denim jeans, his favorite shit-kickers, and a dark purple button down that had been personally made by his tailor. Last night’s new suit had been a coup; Vincent had ordered it the month before and it just so happened he’d been called to pick it up at the beginning of the week. He thought Jane had looked impressed by the action, but now that she was mysteriously upset Vincent was rethinking the entire evening. What had happened that he wasn’t seeing?
Wallet and phone in hand, Vincent moved to head to the control center to locate Jane in the casino, but his phone pinged yet again with an alert. This time was the emergency notification. This particular chime only sounded when something serious happened to the clan. Swiping his screen open, his eyes quickly read through the message. Another attack had occurred just off of the strip in a nice suburban area where many clan members raised their families. They’d lost an entire family in a house fire caused by a group of werebears from a rival clan. One of the security cameras had caught them with lighter fluid.
Vincent swore. This was exactly what he had been begging the board and his father to avoid! Had they taken
the attacks more seriously in the beginning they wouldn’t be in this mess right now. Checking the ever-changing schedule of the board members, Vincent located his father and headed out to speak to him in person. This needed to be resolved fast, it was far too close to the strip, and Jane, for Vincent to be comfortable about their welfare.
***
Vincenzo’s offices were light-filled and spacious. They afforded him a view not only of the Mezzanotte Hotel and Casino, but also of the old part of Vegas that thrived originally. The building sat between the two areas of the city and served as a metaphorical bridge between generations of werebears. The posh space was decorated in a neutral color palette of creamy nudes and sage with pops of navy accents. It reminded Vincent of being outside - something his father probably craved while sequestered on the top floor of the high-rise.
Turning toward the man himself, Vincent took in his father. The man was huge; literally a “bear of a man.” Standing at seven feet even, Vincenzo was lucky that his life’s work centered around other werebears because the general public would have had issues with his stature. Vincenzo was as big as he was tall, still muscular at over two hundred years old. But you could see the age in the grey sprinkled throughout the thick brown hair and the lines on his face had deepened over the years of his rule, the stress of the job showing physically on his form.